Home.
* * *
Later, tangled in sheets damp with sweat, I brush my lips over her bare shoulder, tasting salt and something uniquely her. Her body is soft and sated against mine, her breathing finally steady after I've spent hours making her come apart in my arms.
George stretches like a cat, all sleepy grace and warm skin. Her eyes meet mine, and that slow smile spreads across her face—the one that hits me straight in the chest.
I trace idle patterns across her stomach, possessive even now. These hands that have dealt so much damage are now capable only of gentleness with her. I can't stop touching her, as if she might disappear if I let go.
I pull her closer, burying my face in her neck, breathing her in. I can’t quite believe she's here. In my bed. In my arms. The steady rise and fall of her chest has become the most important rhythm in my world.
I've found something I never thought possible: peace. With her breath synced to mine and her heart beating steadily against my chest, the war inside me finally goes quiet.
I trace the delicate curve of her spine with my fingertips, memorizing every inch of her—the small scar on her shoulder, the constellation of freckles across her back, the soft spot below her ear that makes her shiver when I kiss it.
She pulls me down for a kiss, soft and sweet and perfect. When we break apart, she's still smiling. “So what now?”
What now? The question hovers between us, weighted with possibility.
I pause, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “I came here with nothing but a duffle bag and too many ghosts, George. Now I have no plans beyond keeping you safe, keeping you close...”
I roll her beneath me, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the hollow of her throat. Her pulse beats steady beneath my lips, strong and certain.
George hums, her fingers drifting lazily down my back, tracing the ridges of old scars. She knows what I’m saying.
She shifts beneath me, her legs tangling with mine, pressing closer. “That sounds dangerously close to a commitment,” she teases, but her voice is softer now, her walls down.
I smirk against her throat, nipping at the delicate skin there just to hear the way her breath hitches. “Reckless of me, huh?”
George grins. “Extremely.”
She presses a kiss to my chest, right over the place where my heart is finally beating for something other than survival.
I don’t know what the future holds.
But I know this—her, us, this moment.
And that feels like enough. More than enough. Like everything.
“Get some sleep,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I'm not going anywhere.”
She smiles, her eyes already drifting closed. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
It's the easiest vow I've ever made.
Chapter17
Beckett
“Beckett?” Sheriff Lucas calls through the door. “Need to talk to you. Both of you, I imagine.”
George's eyes widen, a flush spreading across her cheeks. “Oh, God,” she whispers.
I can't help the smug satisfaction that curls through me at the thought that he knows. I want everyone to know this woman is mine and I’m hers.
“Give us a minute,” I call back, not taking my eyes off George.
